


i guess i'll sleep when i'm dead

by splitskip



Series: Insomniatic [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: A couple of lines that could be interpreted as Self Harm, Basically an origin story, Blue is the OC, But it's not self harm, Butterfly Knives, Emetophobia, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Implied Stalking, Insomnia, Proxies, Time Skips, Tody / Hoodie / Slender Man show up but aren't named, offscreen murder, talk of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splitskip/pseuds/splitskip
Summary: All insomniacs, please raise your right hand, (and kindly repeat after me).Plagued by paranoia and nightmares, Blue's situation finally comes to head.
Series: Insomniatic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980091
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	i guess i'll sleep when i'm dead

Blue couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even in public where she should’ve felt safe if only for the number of people around her, she felt as though there was always someone just behind her. She’d forced herself to stop glancing behind, trying to not look like a freak or something while in a crowded place.

It took effort not to rub her bruised neck, currently hidden under a thick layer of cover-up foundation, and instead picked up one of the apples she was pretending to inspect. She pressed it with her fingers, absently checking for bruises, while she scanned the aisles around her. Nobody seemed to be paying her any particular attention, but the hairs rising on the back of her neck told her otherwise. 

She set back down the apple, turning to head back to where she’d left her cart. This trip wasn’t worth it - she felt too paranoid, too unsafe. Bribing her absent roommate to pick up groceries would be her best bet at this point. Maybe if she went to bed while it was still light out she’d finally get some sleep--

“Oof!” 

Blue reached up, rubbing her aching nose, her eyes rising to land on the person she had bumped into. He was taller than her by quite a bit, and she’d run face first into his chest. 

“Hey, you a-alright? You got, got, gotta pay better attention to where you’re going!” The man in front of her spoke with a pronounced stutter, his hands held out in a placating manner. Pinning him with a confused squint, it took Blue a split second too long to find her voice. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I…” Her gaze averted in embarrassment. “I should’ve watched where I was going.” 

“It’s no pr-pr-problem.” His eye twitched, head shivering like he was trying to hold it in place. Despite the fact that he was wearing a black medical mask, she got the feeling he was beaming at her. “Apples no good?” He nodded behind her, towards the display, where she had been pretending to scrutinize the apple selection. 

“Oh, ha, uhm…” To be honest, the apples were probably perfectly fine, and Blue floundered for a quick excuse. “No, they’re fine, I just got a text from my roommate saying they picked some up while they were out of the house, so…”

“Oh, really? Well, have, have, have a good day!” He skirted around her, and she gratefully took the opportunity to get out of this situation and walked as fast as was polite back to her cart. But the feeling of being watched returned tenfold, and she whipped her head back around.

The guy she had bumped into was standing next to the apples, squeezing one experimentally. He looked up, catching her eye, and to her utter shock, winked at her. 

The employee handling the carts wished her a good day as she hurried past, but she barely heard it underneath the static that seemed to fill her ears.

_____________

Blue sat at her kitchen table, one palm pressed against her throbbing temple and the other wrapped tight around her favorite butterfly knife. It must be at least two A.M, and despite the exhaustion that seemed to drag her down like molasses, she couldn’t sleep. 

She’d swung by the Walgreens near her house after her botched grocery attempt and picked up some extra strength sleeping pills, but they were sitting untouched on her night stand. Her neck throbbed, and she had come to terms at this point that she was too afraid to sleep. The nightmares were getting worse, and the fact that the evidence of them was showing up physically on her skin worried her. 

The quiet of the night was belied by an unending static she couldn’t identify the source of, and not for the first time since this whole ordeal started, she wondered if she had developed some sort of deadly disease. Any internet searches of her symptoms turned up basically nothing, only a couple of backweb internet forums and oddly enough, a Youtube page. She’d only watched a couple of the more recent videos before closing the tab, deciding it was just some college kids film project. Irrelevant. 

Bile rose in her throat, and she dropped her knife to bring her fist to her mouth, coughing harshly in an attempt to clear it. Something wet splashed against her tongue, and she recognized the bite of iron on her taste buds. Her mouth began watering profusely, and she stood abruptly, kitchen stool falling to the ground behind her with a loud clatter, and raced to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink in time to dry heave into the basin.

Nothing came out, but she couldn’t stop gagging until finally she couldn’t breathe anymore, and simply hunched over the sink, shaking, mouth wide open and dripping saliva while she panted. She felt weak - whether from lack of food, sleep, or this sickness wasn’t clear.

Hand curling into a fist against the cool glass of the bathroom mirror, she glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the crown of the toilet next to her. Three o’ seven. Damnnit, she had to sleep soon. She’d have to go to the doctor, but she knew better than to try driving there in her current state. She needed to rest - she didn’t have a choice. 

The bathroom light flickered, and that was the only warning given before it gave out entirely and she was plunged into darkness, the only light available coming from the digital screen of the clock. Mouth snapping shut, swallowing whatever spit was left in her mouth, Blue didn’t dare to move. The feeling of being watched was back, and she lifted her eyes to the mirror, and for a split second, could’ve sworn she saw… no, there’s no way. That’s impossible.

Her eyes clenched shut out of instinct when the light came back on suddenly, blinding her, and when she opened them again, the pale suited figure she had thought she saw was nowhere to be found. 

...Where was her knife?

The trip back to the kitchen was uneventful, but the weight of her balisong in her palm was reassuring - she could protect herself. Just to prove it, she did a couple of simple tricks, the impact of the knife on her knuckles distracting her, if only for a few moments. Whether she was actually being stalked, or just losing her mind, at least she had this.

Tomorrow, she’d go to the doctor. Tomorrow, she’d figure out a way to make everything go back to normal. 

_____________

Things could never go back to normal. Blue felt like she wasn’t real. Like this had to still be a dream, even as a large tentacle curled around her shoulder, too solid to be imaginary and tepid in temperature, turning her away from the blazing fire of her home. She could barely remember lighting the match that started it, and now she couldn’t turn away as everything she owned was turned to charcoal. 

Emergency sirens were blaring in the distance, sounding closer by the second, and she distantly realized they were coming to her. The being behind her nudged her one more time, and she finally turned from the destruction and followed it away, towards a back alley behind the house that she knew was there but had never considered significant in any way. 

...Where did the static go?

The car sitting in the alley was still running, and in the dawn light she couldn’t make out any details beyond the fact that it had ever so slightly tinted windows and was old. One of the rear doors swung open, and again the tentacle nudged her forward, encouraging her to enter. The interior of the car was warm, a stark contrast from the chill of the early morning air, and the seats were rougher than she expected from how old they looked. Oddly coloured stains covered most of the fabric, and it wasn’t until the door shut behind her and she looked down at her hands that she realized what it was.

Blood. 

One of her hands was still clenched tightly around the handle of her butterfly knife, the blade covered in blood that for once wasn’t hers. It was drying on her hands, tacky and browning, and she gagged. 

She’d just killed someone. She’d just--

“Hey.” The voice coming from the front seat was masculine, and muffled significantly, like the guy had something covering his mouth. It broke her from her thoughts, though, and her head shot up to stare at what she could see of the back of his head. Which wasn’t much - he had turned on the dim light above the center mirror, but otherwise the car was mostly wrapped in shadows. Was that a mustard yellow hoodie?

“You should try and get some sleep.” He sounded tired, long-suffering. “I bet you’re exhausted.” 

He was right. And for the first time in nearly a month, Blue closed her eyes and slept without dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! For reference, the lines that could be interpreted as self harm (impact on knuckles, for once not her blood on the blade) are referring to flipping balisong knives, and how when you're learning new tricks there is a very high chance you're going to cut yourself on accident, and your hands will definitely get bruised. :) 
> 
> I cut out a very important scene between the last two scenes, and it's purposeful. I'll leave it up to imagination who she killed and how it happened :) Just know this all occurs in the same day - night cycle.


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